What a lovely morn concealed in radiance! With melodious rhymes sung in ecstasy. What a pleasant evening spent in ambience! With candles glowing in joy's embassy. What a season known for so much laughter! With all its fraternizing and delights. What a day to chant hymns with a Psalter! In cathedrals embellished with bright lights. What a day for lovers to reminisce! As they reflect on each Piano piece. What a day for kids to delight in toys! With smiles beaming on faces of girls and boys. What a time to mark a pleasant holiday! Its nothing more
All hail to a noble Saviour of low birth who lies in a cradle surrounded by beasts. The chants of Joy and gladness from all the earth mark his lowly birth with wonderful feasts. All hail to our Lord whose lowly birth brings hope to the rabble, elite, priest, friar and Pope. The seed of David who is sure to set men free from the bondage of sin's evil omen. All hail to our meek and gentle Christ child whose child-like moods are ever temperate and mild. The gift to a virgin who never once bore childish petulance from a child to adore. All hail to
I heard an old old Christmas song sung by grandma on Christmas eve. I heard an old old Christmas song of a virgin who did conceive. I heard an old old Christmas song of a Christ child who will relieve. I heard an old old Christmas song of glad tidings we shall receive. I heard an old old Christmas song of peace on earth we shall achieve. I heard an old old Christmas song of joyful people who did grieve. I heard an old old Christmas song of pain eternal we shall leave.
I woke up early on a Christmas morn. Gladly waiting for Santa before dawn. Looking through blinds in anxiety I'd torn, I'd hoped to see him approaching my lawn, in costumes in previous years he had worn. But in disguise he came with a French horn, playing elegies of demons unborn. Wheat, barley, oats, rice and grains of sweet corn filled his socks for a land which was war-torn. I'd thought the usual Santa would return. But a different Santa came to fore-warn me of a nagging menace that had drawn my nation to the brink, and seeks to drown her in
I'll spend this Christmas with none but you. A time we'll relive old times anew, in ecstasy on fifth avenue. From nightfall until the skies turn blue, fun will bid boredom a last adieu. In this yuletide our love will renew vintage affections beheld by few, void of any pretentious residue, because this Christmas is all about you.
Poemocean Poetry Contest
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You can view contest entries at Hindi Poetry Contest: March 2017